


Lucky

by Ididntsignupforthisshit (myhamartia)



Series: Tick Tock Universe [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Deleted Scenes, M/M, Tick Tock Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 12:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11806245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhamartia/pseuds/Ididntsignupforthisshit
Summary: Deleted Scene pre-chapter 26 from my Soulmate AU, Tick TockLance faced the after effects from his night with Keith, has a lot of introspection and angst





	Lucky

Paint.

_ Paint _ .

There was so much paint. Flaking and pulling and itching along his skin.

    It was a constant reminder of Keith along his back - not that he needed a reminder of him, anyhow.

    Coming into his apartment (storming, more like. Like a wind you know will turn sour. A hurricane, a tornado, a disaster waiting to happen), Lance couldn’t think. It was like a buffer had descended upon his consciousness. He could only feel. He felt that dark Something, with the capital S, that sliced into his gut and left him wiggling where he stood, unable to control, or even understand the feelings that it left him with. There was the loss, the hole in his chest that he felt. It was largely metaphorical, but it felt all too much like it had a palpable substance and it was ingraining itself into Lance’s very being.

    Like a black hole, it drew everything in. His limbs twitched with it, begging him to curl in on himself like a child and cry - to let everything out, to do  _ something _ before it all became unbearable and left it exploding in his face.

    Lance reached his trembling fingers up and tugged them through his hair, ignoring the paint that was flecked around his hands, to grip at the short strands in an effort to ground himself. There was too much, too much. Too much to process, to think through. Too much to feel, too many thoughts swirling together until they were one unintelligible mass he couldn’t sort through.

    His skin felt hot and tight, so he tore off his jacket, flinging it in a direction he didn’t care to see. His shoes were kicked off, and his wristwatch fitfully undone from his wrist. He stared at the watch in his hand, his fingers curling tightly around the band and the face. His thumb dug into  a small bit of metal. The penny. The one Keith had picked up and given to Lance for good luck in Nevada. Lance kept it on him at all times while he was on his trip, whether it in a pocket or stuck securely in his wallet, he always had it. When he had gotten back and Keith had given him the watch, he had the penny inlaid to the inner part of the band. He pressed his thumb into face of the coin. The metal was clammy and not at all cool under his skin. A lucky penny.

Luck, huh?

    With a sneer and a sound he couldn’t put a label to, Lance threw the wristwatch. It landed with a satisfying crack against the wall. He knew the face would be broken and the watch might just need a desperate repair, but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to go and see. There was some kind of twisted desire to  _ see _ it broken. Then again, had more pressing things to think about, and it wasn’t the gifted watch.

    He went up to his bedroom, ignoring the rumpled jacket as he passed and the little scattered shards of glass he passed on the way. He didn’t stop until he reached the bathroom, the one in the hall instead of the one in his bedroom. Maybe because it was darker, and there weren’t windows to face him with the morning light that blinded him and left him wanting. Maybe it was because the mirror above the sink was a small one, round and with a cast metal trim. It wasn’t the full wall length vanity that mounted the wall in his own room. He wasn’t able to see much of his body past his collar bones.

    Even that sight was one Lance would gladly pass up. The discolorations along his throat and dotting down his collarbone was an unwelcome sight, along with the blue that streaked up and over his shoulders, to taint his cheekbones in the faint shape of Keith’s fingers.

    Slowly, he reached his fingertips up to trail along his skin, memories lit up in his eyes as he relived what was only a few hours prior.

    The best simile Lance could make of this was of a reformed drug addict.

    Without that beautiful source of his happiness, the very thing that made him feel like he could fly… he crashed. He felt like he was burning with no hope of getting better, now or in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Why hello! It's been a hot minute, eh?
> 
> Hope you liked it!! Writing it was a pain and I hate myself for it l m f a o
> 
> Thanks so much, Mikiri for betaing this! Idk wtf I would do without you
> 
> Anyhow, please leave me a comment! You can also visit me over on [tumblr](http://peanutbutterandbitter.tumblr.com/)!


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